


To Touch You

by willowthorn



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Body Worship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, t4t
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25948507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowthorn/pseuds/willowthorn
Summary: Post-top Jigen gets a little loving.
Relationships: Ishikawa Goemon XIII/Jigen Daisuke, polygang implied
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	To Touch You

Smoke flows from his lips, slow circles lingering against the open window, the dead air of summer giving no movement to the grey. He breathes in, feels it burn through his lungs, and feels the hands across his torso move, following the path of his chest hair, tracing curls and cupping softly. His scars stretch with the pressure, tan skin giving under pale, strong fingers. Goemon’s head is ducked, red on his ears as he tests for dead areas, for reconnecting nerves and damaged muscle. His palms are slick with medicated moisturizer, something to help the scars fade. It’s been months since his surgery, since he was able to move around fully again. Goemon still likes to do this, still likes to tend to him. The excuses he once gave now don’t even bother to leave his lips. 

Goemon’s scars are not like his own. They are thin, faded memories - two little slashes on the lower outside edge of his pectorals, barely noticeable unless you knew exactly where to look. He had been young then. Jigen did not have that luxury. His scars are still angry, raised, and red though they are less painful than before. They beg for a second, third look from whoever sees him without his shirt. Usually, that’s Goemon or Lupin. Lupin looks at him just the same, though he lamented the temporary loss of squeezing privileges. Goemon, however, can’t stop looking. Can’t stop touching.

“You really like them that much, huh?” Jigen breathes smoke out his nose, tapping his cigarette lightly against the green glass ashtray leaned against the window. 

“I always have. But now, you look when I touch you. You do not look away from yourself.” Goemon’s hands slide down the side of his ribs. “These scars are beautiful things, so I want to touch them. To touch you.” 

“Well, shit.” Jigen brushes Goemon’s hair back, brings his focus from his chest to his face. “If you say it like that…” Goemon’s lips are warm, soft against him. He tastes like green tea and caramel. Jigen’s lips are rough, slightly chapped. He knows he tastes like smoke, but Goemon hums against him anyway, moving his hands slightly to trace the ropey length of Jigen’s scars, to play with the raised edge of his nipples. Jigen traces the scars on Goemon’s shoulders and upper arms, circling slowly, the slightest bit of pressure under his hands. Goemon returns the touch in kind, kissing his neck before dipping lower. Black hair falls from his shoulders as he nuzzles into the dark hair at the center of Jigen’s chest, and lets his hands fall away as his mouth takes over.

Jigen feels pressure and the slightest whisper of pain as Goemon’s teeth close around his nipple, the bite immediately soothed by a warm mouth. Goemon’s hands move across his thighs, guiding them further open. 

“Please, allow me.” Goemon breathes against his neck, hands hovering at Jigen’s belt.

“Yeah, sure, go ahead.” Jigen huffs, heat bubbling in his gut, red splashing across his cheeks.

Goemon moves quickly, his own top pushed down to pool around his waist as he pulls away Jigen’s pants, Jigen’s underwear. The soft leather of the couch feels warm, sticky in the summer heat. He can’t bring himself to care too much. Goemon’s hand’s pin him down, arms solid on either side of Jigen’s torso. He kisses Jigen deeply, slowly. Jigen sighs, wrapping his legs around Goemon’s middle, bringing him closer. 

“Do you want my mouth or my hands?” Goemon asks when they break from each other, tracing circles on Jigen’s middle. 

“Both.” Jigen pushes Goemon down by his shoulders, feeling the muscles move as Goemon shifts to rest his head between Jigen’s thighs. 

He savors the pearly moisture that drips between his thighs, slow movements of his tongue lingering on Jigen’s dick before swallowing, slight movements pulling Jigen firm against his tongue. Jigen’s hands fist in his hair, keeping him still as he fucks his face, the rolling of his hips sweet and stuttering. Goemon’s eyes are closed in what Jigen can only describe as bliss as Jigen takes over control, and when Jigen decides to show him mercy there’s slick coating his chin, blush heavy on his cheeks. Goemon breathes deeply, regaining lost air. His fingers drag from Jigen’s hip to toy with the damp curls of his pubic mound. 

“You alright there, lover boy?” Jigen chuckles, cupping Goemon’s cheek with a calloused hand. The samurai nods, swallows. “You taste amazing…” He breathes, kissing Jigen’s wrist. “Forgive me, I know I say it every time, but you still…” 

Jigen laughs, cutting him off with a kiss. “Yeah, yeah. You’re so blessed to eat my pussy. Go get your dick.” 

Goemon nods, kissing Jigen one last time before retreating to ready himself. 

In the sudden quiet of the room, Jigen begins to touch himself. Slowly, in his usual way, dipping his fingers between his legs, feeling the curve of his labia before pulling away. He can hear the jangle of the harness’ buckles in the next room and decides to keep his other hand busy. He runs the same patterns over his scars that Goemon did, cupping the slight raise of tissue there. He watches himself do it, watches as puckered skin moves with his touch. He can feel it. Dull, sometimes aching, but he can feel it.

He is left alone with his body. His body - no more, no less. 

It’s funny, how this sort of thing can come in waves. It’s been months, weeks of adjusting to himself. This time, it feels like quiet satisfaction, a piece sliding into place. He breathes, and nothing restricts it. 

When Goemon returns to him, he pauses for a moment. Jigen looks loose, relaxed as he loops his arms around the samurai’s neck. 

“What’re you looking at me like that for?” Jigen hums, his voice a rumble, a purr as he kisses Goemon’s collarbone, spreads his legs.

“You seem pleased about something.” Goemon wets his fingers with a squeeze of lube before tossing the bottle he brought aside. It’s cold against Jigen’s warmth, the gunman huffing as he shifts around Goemon’s knuckles.

“I’m about to get fucked by a real beauty - ‘course I’m pleased about it.” Jigen grins at Goemon turns red, the motions of his hands stuttering. Jigen laughs, pulls him in to kiss the redness of his ears, his cheeks. 

“Ready?” Goemon asks, pulling back to keep a steadying hand on his cock, thick and glistening.

“You know I am.” Jigen reaches between them, guides him in with a sigh, a moan settling in his chest as Goemon’s weight comes to rest fully inside him. “God, you’re always so fucking huge.”

“It is not my fault Lupin’s dick is smaller than mine.” Goemon huffs, smiling as Jigen wheezes out a laugh. 

“I’m going to start moving now.” Goemon’s fingers rub a small circle on his hips, only moving when Jigen nods, lifting his hips slightly to get a sweeter angle. Goemon fucks him slowly, lets Jigen watch the play of muscles under his skin, invites his hands to trace his own scars - back, shoulders, chest, more places, and more painful memories than Jigen could count. His hips roll into Jigen’s own, and when he dips his head to nip at Jigen’s neck, the gunman decides he can’t take it anymore. 

Calloused hands find Goemon’s shoulder, pushing back. Goemon, eyes wide, goes easily, a solid wall falling with the barest touch. Jigen kneels above him, guiding his dick back into his warm folds. It hits differently, a shiver coursing up the gunman’s spine as he grinds down, his clit bumping against the soft leather of Goemon’s strap. 

“Fuck,” Jigen moans, bracing himself against the arm of the sofa as Goemon begins to touch him, caressing his hips, his ass, his chest, his back. His touch is agonizing against the relentless pace Jigen set for himself. 

“Christ, Goemon. Would it kill you to get a little rough with me?” Jigen groans, pulling Goemon’s hands up from his stomach to his chest. “Here, I want it here.” 

Goemon stills, swallows, nods. His fingers pinch and pull, dig into sore muscles and make Jigen’s body sing. He cums as Goemon licks away a bruising bite, crushing the samurai’s skull against his chest. 

Jigen collapses, breathless and boneless, chest ringing with not-quite sensation against Goemon’s own sweat-streaked torso. He lays there, lazy until he feels Goemon’s breath evening out.

“Hey…” Jigen says to Goemon’s left pectoral. “If you ditch the strap, I’ll eat you out.” 

Jigen smiles, sitting alone on the couch momentarily as Goemon hurries to undo the silver buckles at his hips.


End file.
